The part of Hamlet might be deeper and more profound. But for sheer exuberant fun and fatuous excess, the title role in David Hirson’s satiric “La Bête” — translated as “the beast” — can’t be topped. Besides, the Prince of Denmark doesn’t have a soliloquy that lasts a whopping 30 minutes.
That monologue — written, like all of Hirson’s 1991 play, in rhyming couplets — is one of the high points of any production of the show. And as the boorish Valere, the brilliant Mike Nadajewski struts and frets this half hour upon the stage with complete confidence, physical virtuosity and a verbal dexterity that recalls the late great comic Robin Williams.
The high-toned backdrop is 17th century France, established immediately by Joe Pagnan’s tasteful set full of richly coloured drapes and a gold picture frame descending from above. The first sequence we see in director Dylan Trowbridge’s production is a courtly, measured dance of actors (Monica Dottor is credited as movement assistant), elegantly costumed by Laura Delchiaro. Order exists in this world — but not for long.
The serious, soberly-dressed playwright Elomire (Cyrus Lane), whose name is an anagram for one of France’s greatest writers, Moliere, is upset because his theatre’s wealthy patron, the Princess Conti (Amelia Sargisson), has fallen under the spell of the crude street actor Valere, whom she’s seen perform in the city’s public square. She signs a writ to have Valere join Elomire’s theatre troupe.
After commiserating with his second-in-command, Bejart (Richard Lam), Elomire stands by as Valere bursts in and proceeds to assault them with his words — and obnoxious presence.
Valere, whose clothes are in tatters, pretends to be modest, but he’s completely obsessed with himself. He fawns over his two superiors, yet also manages to insult them. Bored with the names of things, he amuses himself by making up alternative words — hence a simple chair becomes known as “Francesca.” He bares his buttocks, scrubs his nether regions with a brush which he then uses for his hair, retches and then wipes his mouth on those lovely curtains. And so on.
It’s a grandstanding performance by an actor who’s well known to audiences at the Shaw and Stratford Festivals but should, like a lot of Canadian theatre talent, be a star. And just as good are Lane and Lam, who must register their growing disbelief and horror as Valere’s monologue continues.
If the first act of this Talk is Free Theatre production is dominated by Nadajewski’s bravura speech, the second is mostly taken up with a recreation of Valere’s solo show “The Parable of Two Boys from Cadiz.” The Princess has decided that it should be put on as an ensemble piece, and if it’s a success Valere will be able to stay. Elomire, for his part, says that if Valere stays, he will leave.
It’s in this second act that Trowbridge and the ensemble get to show off their physical comedy, as prosthetic legs fly, eyes get gouged and one member picks up a kazoo to play a little riff from the musical “Wicked.”
All of this is entertaining enough, but the play has deeper and darker concerns. One character admits it’s hard to tell “truth and travesty apart,” while another bemoans the fact that “good art means less than commentary.” Hirson, it’s important to remember, wrote these words years before the advent of social media, George Santos and politicians who became famous from reality shows.
Lane brings a deeply-felt gravitas to his line readings that makes his points register with quiet power. And Sargisson’s Princess, whose mood can change in a second, emerges as just as capricious and dangerous as Valere himself. In a way, she’s more dangerous because she actually affects people's lives and livelihoods.
Among the hard-working ensemble, Katarina Fiallos stands out as maid Dorine, whose monosyllable pronouncements punctuate the play, providing it with a fascinating commentary about the purpose and meaning of words.
And then there’s Nadajewski. What’s so remarkable about his crafty performance is that, despite his character’s narcissism, lies and disrespect for artistic conventions, his Valere is still endlessly watchable, even likeable.
If he were alive today, he’d have tens of millions of followers on TikTok. His antics would go viral. He might even run for office.
Which only hammers home Hirson’s point.
